


heir and engine

by ardett



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet Ending, Dark Tony Stark, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gaslighting, Grooming, M/M, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex, between Harley and Peter, he is not a nice guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 05:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20130193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett
Summary: It comes down to this: the heir and the engine.In which Tony is exactly what Harley thought he was.





	heir and engine

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [room for [one] more](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333344) by [VerdantMoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth). 

> This is an alternate ending for room for [one] more and I would highly suggest reading that fic first :)
> 
> I adored VerdantMoth's fic and then I thought to myself: but what if Tony wasn't a nice guy

In the beginning, it was about a favor to a gold and green lover and the sugar engine. Harley doesn’t like to lie to himself. He had read it from Loki’s lips when the god had slipped that keycard, that beautiful flawless keycard, into the tattered pocket of his pants.

Loki was probably thinking about Harley and his ratty too-thin pajamas, Harley and his too-thin brother shivering on their single twin mattress, when he propositioned Tony Stark. It was probably an afterthought while Tony’s hands were tangled in his inky hair and Thor’s fingers were pressing into him, that it used to be Harley who laid kisses on his hand like swearing fealty. 

And Tony, kind benevolent philanthropic Tony, had given into Loki’s wishes. But not without promises.

Promises that Harley would be worth it, that Harley would be useful, that Harley would pay back his generosity tenfold, that Harley would be able to make  _ the goddamn sugar engine _ finally work.

Harley doesn’t know if he can.

Here’s what Harley has noticed: Tony calls them “The Stark Boys” in public. 

To the press, clamoring on the steps to the lobby, it’s “The Stark Boys are working on projects the world won’t be ready for in 50 years.” At the galas, its “My Stark Boys look better than your kids ever have. They’ve always belonged here.” At the charity events, its “They may have come from the slums but they’re my boys now and they’re Starks.” 

When Peter asks where all that fundraised money goes, Tony leans in close, loosens Peter’s bowtie and whispers, “To boys just like you.” And when Peter’s ring finger twitches, Tony finishes, “But there’s no one like you, baby.”

Harley doesn’t know where that money goes. He doesn’t ask. All he knows is that he and Peter never saw a cent of it before the keycard and now all Peter has to do is look sideways at some new watch, some pretty shoes, and Tony buys it for him.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Peter and Tony. Tony and Peter. Peter and the way he asks and pleads and never begs and gets exactly what he wants, and Tony and the way he indulges it all and the way he calls them “The Stark Boys” in public but in private he calls Harley “darling” and Peter “my heir.”

Peter’s still so young and for the first time Harley can remember, he can only fit one finger to thumb around Peter’s wrist instead of three. Peter though, Peter’s already learned to spend like Tony, to smile like Tony, to  _ be _ like Tony.

So Harley watches Peter burn like there’s glow worms in his belly and keeps track of every purchase until his notebook runs out of pages and doesn’t figure out the sugar engine.

It comes down to this: the heir and the engine.

The garage is getting colder. Harley doesn’t know how because he doesn’t seem to know anything these days. He doesn’t even know when it started. But he’s sure it is.

It’s not affecting the rest of the tower, that’s just as warmth-soaked as always. It’s so heated that Harley feels silly trying to wear a coat.

Tony still leaves him clothes to change into when he’s working in the garage, the same jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt. Never any coats. So that’s what Harley keeps wearing.

His skin goosebumps and his ribs shiver, like they don’t remember where they came from. He keeps working on the engine and the sugar doesn’t turn sticky anymore. Sometimes he wanders over to where Tony’s welding and if he stands there long enough, Tony lets him hold the blowtorch.

He pretends it doesn’t feel like giving up.

Every day the temperature drops. Harley’s breath clouds and his fingernails grow frost. It always melts before Peter can see it.

Tony doesn’t let him hold the blowtorch alone now. It’s their hands interlocked over the barrel and when Harley shivers, Tony holds firm.

It’s been two weeks since Tony introduced them to the public. Being in the garage is like being back home, that sickening scent of snow and frozen pipes. It’s worse.

The metal of the engine is too cold to touch.

Aimless, Harley inevitably ends up pressed into Tony’s side, watching him weld together bars. Tony doesn’t let him hold the blowtorch anymore.

Maybe he didn’t notice, Harley had been telling himself. Maybe Tony wanted it colder so he could weld. Maybe the temperature settings were automatic and it saw the blowtorch flame, maybe, maybe. After all, they had both been in the same clothes this whole time, both in t-shirts.

The clothes for Harley are the same but when he walks into the garage, Tony is wearing a coat.

It’s breathtaking, something leather and soft, dyed in scarlet and black. The buttons are probably real gold. It looks warm.

The cold makes Harley’s hip ache.

“I thought we could both tinker with your engine today,” Tony suggests but doesn’t suggest at all.

Harley doesn’t answer but takes the stool next to Tony. It feels like weeks since he’s even looked at the engine. He grabs the screwdriver and takes off the back panel. The plastic handle feels alright in his hand. He goes for the wrench next and the metal sears against his palm. He grits his teeth.

Tony watches and doesn’t offer a comment.

Harley steadies the engine with his other hand as he fiddles off a bolt and leaves behind bits of flesh from his fingertips. The wrench is frozen to him. He pries it off with the hem of his shirt. He tries to change out the gears but his hands are shaking too much. He knocks something loose by accident and sugar pours over his knuckles like snow.

The sugar didn’t dissolve. The water froze.

The fight drains out of Harley. He brushes off the sugar and pushes the tools to the side with as little skin as possible. He doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry, sir. I… I can’t figure it out.”

“It’s okay, darling.” Tony trails his fingers down Harley’s cheek and Harley has to stop himself from falling into Tony’s arms. “You can keep trying,” Tony assures like salvation.

Harley just wants to stop shivering.

When Harley changes into his garage clothes the next day, there’s no shoes.

Harley looks for the clothes for a few minutes before slumping against the wall of the changing room. A chill creeps along his bare arms. He doesn’t cry, only digs his nails into his thighs and curls his bare toes on the concrete.

Tony hasn’t let Peter into the garage in weeks and Harley will make sure his brother never comes down here again. His brother will never be cold here, will never see Harley like this. Peter will be the heir to SI. Or Harley will take them both away from Tony Stark.

Harley enters the garage. Tony is waiting for him. The sugar engine is miraculously still sitting on the table but all the more dangerous tools are put away. Tony gestures to it with gloved hands and Harley takes a seat.

“I told you that you could keep trying, didn’t I?” he breathes down Harley’s neck. Tony’s in a scarf today and it rubs on Harley’s bicep as he leans away, the fur silken against Harley’s skin. It’s a little warmer and still so so cold. Harley stares at what’s left on the workbench, the screwdriver and a pile of sugar and a different type of lubricant than the one they had been using for the gears.

It’s a game. Tony’s playing with him. Harley picks up the screwdriver anyway. 

There’s nothing he can do with what he has but it’s pretty clear Tony doesn’t intend for him to. That’s the game. As a favor to Loki, Harley got to work on the sugar engine. Then he brought along Peter and that favor ran its course. He can always keep trying, but they both know that no real work gets done in a garage with no shoes and no tools. He’s never going to figure out the sugar engine. He’s never going to win the game.

He tinkers with the engine. Takes parts out. Put them back in. Takes them out again. He shivers once, violently, and the screwdriver scrapes a line into the engine’s side.

“Sorry,” Harley mumbles.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tony runs one finger down the scratch. Harley shivers again and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tony’s head tilt towards him. “Cold?” Tony asks.

“Mm,” Harley hums, not sure how Tony wants him to answer. Tony nods but otherwise doesn’t move.

“Keep working, darling.” So Harley does.

Tony’s hands slip under Harley’s shirt. His gloves are gone and his palms and fingers are flush against the skin of Harley’s stomach, thumbs skimming the bottom of his ribs. The heat… the heat…

Harley drops his head against the table and gives a full body shudder. The hands drag over the ridges of his pelvis, pushing down the waist of his pants. He feels fingers probe at the bite marks on his hip.

Tony presses his lips to highest knob of Harley spine and mouths, “Keep working.”

Harley picks his head up to look at the sugar engine, glaring at it like it’s his curse. He turns it to the side as the fingers drift from his hip. He fiddles, swivels something that probably shouldn’t have been swiveled. Parts come loose, water spills. Tony doesn’t say anything.

The hands trace up his ribs, large and warm. Harley’s eyes flutter and Tony clicks his tongue. The hands pause, nails scritching over Harley’s bones. Every time he inhales, his chest presses further into Tony, gets that tiny bit warmer. The engine doesn’t breath. The engine doesn’t shiver. Harley takes hold of the engine’s innards and pulls. He’s not strong enough to dislodge anything.

There’s a flick at his nipple and a current runs between his legs. His hands fail him, letting go of the engine. His shirt has been pushed up by Tony’s wandering hands and his flesh has goosebumps wherever Tony isn’t touching it. Tony keeps pinching and tugging and twisting at both sides of his chest as Harley gives a muted whimper. He can’t help it. His head falls back against Tony’s shoulder. Tony doesn’t tell him to keep working and he doesn’t stop, not until Harley is sore and aching and shamefully warm.

When he stops, it’s abrupt. Harley almost falls off his stool as Tony stands up. “Good work today,” Tony says without looking back. He leaves his gloves.

The lights in the garage go off as soon as Tony disappears from the room. Harley stays there, staring into the darkness. He can just make out the pile of white sugar at the edge of the table. 

Without Tony’s hands on him, he trembles. It’s not because of the cold.

As Harley makes Peter breakfast, he reminds himself that he’s grateful. The marble countertops are inlaid with precious metals. Part of the counter is designed to heat up by itself for cooking but there’s no fire and no smell of gas. The pan he’s making eggs in probably costs more than everything Harley and Peter used to own. He remembers watching Peter’s face the first time he tasted citrus as he gulped down the orange juice, the way his lips puckered and his nose wrinkled.

There’s a box for keeping things cold. Tony had to remind Harley the first couple of times to put things back in. Harley had been leaving them out, forgetting they wouldn’t just stay cold. No, the tower is too warm for that.

Harley watches the eggs fry and resists the urge to grab hold of the burning metal. He knows it won’t keep him from shivering. It won’t.

He spoons breakfast onto their plates. Peter asks him for the salt and Harley looks at the salt (it’s not sugar don’t think about it) shaker for a moment too long before he passes it over.

Ten minutes before they have to leave, Tony sweeps into the kitchen. He grabs a seat between them. “Darling.” Tony’s foot nudges Harley’s ankle. Harley doesn’t flinch, not in front of Peter. “Won’t you make me a cup of coffee?”

Harley hasn’t even gotten to standing when Peter growls, “Make it yourself.” Harley tries to make eye contact with his brother but Peter only glares at Tony.

Harley opens his mouth to apologize but then Tony shrugs. “Alright, firecracker.”

Harley jerks and hisses, “Don’t--” He cuts himself off but Tony’s eyes are already fixed on him, challenging.

“Don’t what?”

Harley swallows. “Don’t call him that.”

Tony smirks. “Alright,” he says again but it’s not indulgent this time. It’s just shy of mocking. He gets up to make his coffee.

Peter grabs Harley’s hand from across the table and Harley can feels the joints in his brother’s skinny fingers press against his own. Peter’s gaze flicks over to Tony. “You’re not-- You won’t--”

“No,” Harley snarls.

Peter’s grip tightens. “You promised you wouldn’t, Harl--"

Harley yanks himself away. “We need to go. Come on.” He tosses Peter’s new backpack to him, some designer brand Harley can’t pronounce the name of. Peter puts it on with a scowl.

“Oh Harley,” Tony calls. He’s watching over the rim of his coffee mug, steam clouding his eyes. “You’re not going to school anymore.”

“What?” Harley thinks he would have rather Tony hit him. He would have rather Tony slapped him. “Why?”

“Because I said so.” Tony takes a sip his coffee like it’s the drag of a cigarette. “We can teach you everything you need to know here anyway.”

“But… I…” Harley thinks about his physics class, his chemistry class, the teachers who were going to help him get a job. He thinks about Peter being wrapped in warmth, being fully fed, being given cars with working engines.

“I don’t want to go either!” Peter’s voice carries over Harley’s thoughts.

“Peter.” Harley tugs on Peter’s backpack straps. He tries not to think about Peter going alone. He tries not to think about staying here. It’s not his choice anymore. “You have to go to school. Please.”

Peter ignores him and addresses Tony. “How come Harley doesn’t have to go but I have to? That’s not fair! I’m just as smart as he is!”

“Peter,  _ please--” _

“You’re going to school, kid. This is not a negotiation.” Tony drops his mug in the sink. He walks over and separates the two of them. He spares Harley a glance. “Stay.” Then he takes Peter by the shoulders and starts leading him to the elevator.

“No! I don’t want to!” Peter squirms but can’t get away.

“Look,” Tony leans close and Harley can only just hear what he says from where he’s rooted. “If you want people to take you seriously when you run this company, you need a degree.” He pushes Peter into the elevator with a curt wave. “Happy will take you. Bye.” Harley doesn’t see Peter’s face before the doors close.

Tony turns. Harley stares at a spot on the wall just past his shoulder. “Are you actually going to teach me stuff?” he whispers.

Tony grins. Harley swears his teeth are sharper. “Everything you need to know.” He claps Harley on the shoulder as he passes. “Be down in the garage in an hour.”

They go just as far today as they did yesterday. Harley drools around Tony’s sugar-coated fingers in his mouth. They don’t go any farther.

When they finish, Tony hands Harley a physics workbook with a couple problems circled in it. Each one takes Harley an hour to figure out.

Harley’s working on the last problem when Peter stomps into the room. His brother throws his backpack into the corner, pens spilling from the sides.

“Hey,” Harley starts cautiously, sitting on the bed next to Peter. “How was school?” He goes to put his arm around Peter’s shoulder but Peter immediately shrugs him off. “Come on, Peter.” Harley feels something boiling in his chest. “Why are you being like this?”

Peter narrows his eyes at him. “What did you do today?”

“Nothing. Worked in the garage. Stark gave me homework.”

“It’s not fair,” Peter mutters before yelling, “It’s not fair!” He stands up and rounds on Harley. “I’m stuck in my stupid classes and you get to work in the garage all day! He doesn’t even let me in the garage anymore! You said--”

“I’m doing this for us, Peter! Why can’t you understand that?” Harley wants to scream, wants to shake Peter until he understands, even though he knows that this angry vengeful Peter is better than a Peter who finally understands. He had promised Peter they were leaving that all behind.

“You said he was taking us both,” Peter spits. “You said and now he’s keeping you. He’s going to get rid of me and keep you and I won’t have you anymore. You promised you wouldn't leave me, Harley, you promised!”

“God, Peter, is that what you think?” Harley tries to take Peter in his arms again and Peter lets him this time. His hands curl in Harley’s shirt. “I’ve never going to leave you.  _ Never. _ I’d kill him before I let him separate us, okay?”

Peter hums but the sound is low and unsteady. “Then why can’t I be in the garage with you?” His breath is warm against Harley’s collarbone. “Can’t you ask him?”

“I…” Harley looks to the ceiling and wishes he knew how to pray. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not!” Peter snarls and pushes away. “If you were, you would convince him to let us be in the garage together! You like it. You like being with him while I’m away! You-- you--” Peter’s cheeks are turning red, like they do when he’s about to cry. “Do you think I wanted this? I never asked for anything from you! I never asked for you to take care of me, I never asked for you to let that-- that pervert touch you so you could get me medicine. Tony can take care of us now! He would do anything for us. Why are you still treating me like such a burden?”

Harley gapes at him. There’s not any words he can even begin to piece together. It hurts, like Peter took an iron to his skin and branded him.

_ You’re my brother,  _ he thinks.  _ You’re my brother and I would do anything for you. _ For some reason, he can’t say it.

“Whatever,” Peter mutters, turning away. The door slams behind him.

Why can’t Harley say it?

Peter comes back into their room late that night, rustling the sheets as he crawls in next to Harley. Harley tangles a hand in his curls and whispers, “I’ll always love you.” He feels Peter breathe out, breathe in, breathe out until his breaths turn to snores.

The garage is getting warmer. It piles on Harley’s guilt as he thinks about Peter heading to school in a heavy coat and scarf. There are still no shoes for Harley to wear. It feels humiliating to leave his perfectly good shoes in the changing room but they’re leather and expensive and not the kind that are supposed to be worn working and Tony knows that. Tony knows that and he stopped leaving sneakers for Harley.

Harley takes his usual stool in front of the sugar engine. Tony has given up any pretense of working on his own projects. Harley thinks about loosening the knots in his shoulders. Thinks about staying loose, staying relaxed. It’ll hurt less. Don’t tense. Don’t shiver.

There’s been no progress on the engine but he did try to fix some of the parts he broke. The anticipation grates on him but there’s nothing to do but work and wait. He goes for the lubricant for a sticking button when Tony interrupts him.

“Sure you want to use that today?”

Harley stops. It’s probably too late now. His hand falls to the table. The bottles were switched out the day his shoes disappeared. Unlike the machine-grade lube, this one is safe for everywhere on the body.

Everywhere.

Harley stays silent. He twitches as Tony reaches past him. Tony fingers the bottle of lube before popping the cap off. The sound echoes in the hollow space.

Harley squeezes his eyes shut.

“Don’t be so nervous. I told you that I would teach you, didn’t I?” Tony chuckles.

“I was talking about physics. Maybe chemistry,” Harley retorts without heat.

“Well I wasn’t.” Tony doesn’t sound like he’s joking anymore. “Relax, darling. We’re taking it slow. One lesson at a time. It’ll feel good if you let it.”

Fingers unbutton his jeans. Harley’s eyes fly open and land on the engine. The dark tubes of the engine are watching him, watching him get broken down and taken apart by Tony Stark.

His jeans are being unzippered.

“Sh-Should I--” The zipper pauses. “Should I be working o-on the engine?” Harley finishes breathlessly.

Fingers press against his chin and force him to look directly at Tony. “Did you figure out how to make it work?” Tony asks.

“N-no.” Harley tries to drop his eyes. Tony doesn’t let him. “No, sir.”

“Then your job today is to stay still and quiet.” The zipper goes all the way down.

Fingers draw his cock out from his underwear. Calluses brush rough and dry underneath the head and Harley shudders. His hands go to Tony’s arms, gripping at his sleeves but making no move to stop him. Tony allows it.

Tony’s hand moves away for a second and then comes back slick and cold. He strokes along the length. Harley feels the rush of heat. He feels himself harden.

When Harley looks up at Tony’s face, the man looks uninterested. Like he really is teaching Harley a boring lesson in physics. Harley closes his eyes and bites his lip.

There’s only the slick sliding sound and Harley’s labored breathing. He feels the trace of nails running down his cock and then a twist at the head. He whines through his bitten lip and Tony shushes him.

Then a thumb presses at his slit and Harley jerks. “A-ah--”

“Hush,” Tony murmurs. His hand speeds up.

Harley knows when it’s about to happen, feels the tightening below his stomach. He squeezes Tony’s arms. It only takes a few more strokes before he falls apart, gasping as the tension releases all at once. 

He spills over Tony’s waiting hands.

Tony examines his hand. Pearly fluid drips from his fingers. “You know,” Tony suggests. “Maybe the engine should run on this. Tastes just as sweet, doesn’t it?” 

Tony holds up his fingers expectantly. Harley’s licks his own release off of them. It tastes bitter.

“I suppose it’s harder to collect a lot of though.” Tony’s fingers drag over his cock again and Harley’s vision hazes out as the overstimulation thrums through him. “Maybe another day.”

Tony lets him go after that.

Harley started a second notebook a while ago, before Tony introduced them to the public, before the garage began getting cold. It’s filled with numbers scrawled in the margins. The costs, their debts, are titanic. 

Harley wonders if he’s worth all of that and feels sick to his stomach as he tries to put a price on his consent. He can’t think like that. He just can’t.

The paper crunches under his finger. He rips the pages out from the roots. The scraps litter the floor like snow. Like sugar.

There’s a sharp pain between his fingers. Harley looks down. Blood wells softly from a paper cut. All the written on pages are gone. The notebook has only black white paper and jagged edges where the rest used to be.

Harley sweeps the scraps into the trash, finds a pencil, and starts working on new designs for the sugar engine.

He catches Peter rifling through the trash later but neither he nor Peter brings it up.

Harley spends the next day working on homework problems Tony gave him. They’re getting more and more difficult, harder than anything he had in school. Tony hasn’t offered any help other than circling problems. Harley can’t bring himself to ask.

When he’s done all he can, he heads to the kitchen for a snack. As he passes by Tony’s room, he hears Peter’s voice.

“Do I have to wear this one? I liked the blue one.” 

Harley pushes open the door. Tony and Peter are in matching tailored suits. The black lines hug Peter’s figure but they make him look sleek instead of starved. Tony’s cufflinks are delicate diamonds. They match his silver tie. The cufflinks Peter has are gold, emblazoned with the SI logo. His bow tie is threaded with the same dazzling gold. Tony is fastening it around his neck.

“Blue? Please. People are going to see you in gold and know that you’re the heir to my company. Besides, gold suits--” Tony sees Harley and pauses. He raises an eyebrow. “Harley.” He finishes fixing Peter’s bow tie.

“Going somewhere?” Harley asks.

Peter takes in Harley’s normal clothes and unstyled hair. He whips to face Tony. “Why isn’t Harley getting ready? Isn’t he coming?”

Harley grits out, “I don’t think I was invited.” He glares at Tony and only receives an impassive look in return.

“Must have gotten lost in the mail.” Tony’s fingers curl around Peter’s bicep. “Besides, Peter, wouldn’t you say fair is fair? Harley got to spend this whole week with me in the garage while you were in school. Now I’m spending some time with you.”

“I… I guess…” Peter glaces uncertainly at Harley.

“Why don’t you go put your shoes on? There’s a good boy.” Tony nudges at the small of Peter’s back. “Your brother and I are going to talk.” Peter’s takes a few hesitant steps forward. He doesn’t go until Harley nods at him.

As soon as he’s gone, Harley stalks into the room. “Don’t do this,” he growls.

“Don’t do what?” Tony taunts. Then his eyes narrow. His voice lowers. “Don’t be stupid, Harley. You want me to do this for him. To make him my heir. As long as he’s the future of my company, I’ll protect him. He’ll be treated like a prince. Like my son.” His hand comes up to cradle Harley’s skull. “So you’ll let me keep training him and I’ll make him the king of this forsaken city. And when I die one day, he’ll be all yours.”

Tony brings him forward into a hard kiss and then pushes him backwards. Harley hears the two of them leave a minute later.

Peter comes home drunk. Harley keeps his growing curls back as he bows over the toilet. He holds Peter when they both finally fall into bed. When he goes into the bathroom the next morning, the smell of sickness has already been cleaned away.

“You can’t let him drink that much again.” Harley had left Peter alone in their room to sleep away his hangover and stormed down here.

Tony gives him a once-over. “Change into your work clothes.”

“Why?” Harley’s hands ball into fists. “It’s not like we’re doing any real work. And this is about Peter. I thought you were going to protect him.”

“I said,” Tony stands, “change.”

“No.” Harley holds his ground as Tony stalks closer. “Why does it matter what I’m wearing? You’re going to do whatever you want to me anyway.”

“You’re right about that, darling. You never talk back to me like that again, got it?” Tony grabs him by the hair. “And you even  _ think  _ about touching me, things will get so much worse for you.” Harley’s hands falter in their movement to stop Tony.

“You think I didn’t hear you whispering to my heir that night? What was it you said?  _ I’d kill him before I’d let him separate us?” _ Tony’s voice turns whiny as he imitates the words. Harley goes rigid. “I should kill you for threatening me in my own house.”

Tony lets go of him and Harley sags. His legs are shaking.

“Here’s the thing, Harley. I don’t care about you. You think I care if the two of you are together or not?” Tony waves a hand. “Peter, that’s another story. He’s got potential and he obviously wants you, but I don’t keep useless things. All I’m asking for is for you to stop kidding yourself.” Tony gives him a sweet smile.

“This? All these favors you’re doing for me? It’s about you and how you’re earning your keep here. Peter’s staying with me no matter what. Don’t tell yourself you’re doing it for him. 

“You’re free to stop whenever you want. You’re free to go. Peter will keep all of this. He’ll be fed, he’ll be clothed. He’ll have a better life than you could ever give him. But you want this, don’t you?” Tony tilts Harley’s head up. “You want everything I have to give you.”

“I want to stay with my brother,” Harley spits.

“Same difference, isn’t it?” Tony’s eyes harden. “Don’t try to tell me how to raise him again. Dismissed.”

Things settle into almost a routine. 

During the week, Peter goes to school. On weekends, Tony brings Peter to different events. Peter always goes dressed in gold and comes home drunk or high or on some other drug Tony’s favorite patrons give him. He can never seem to remember in the morning.

Harley gets his brother to school and then goes to the garage. Tony plays with him. Harley takes a shower with the water on the hottest setting and makes sure he’s always clean when Peter gets home. He does whatever homework Tony gives him. He spends the rest of his time jotting down notes on the sugar engine.

Anything he can think of, from the composition of the sugar water to the internal workings, anything that might finally make the engine run. When Peter’s sound asleep, he slips into the garage. The door is always unlocked. In fact, all of the cabinets and tools are unlocked. And his garage shoes tend to reappear at night.

Tony must know but he hasn’t stopped Harley yet. So Harley keeps spending hours each night working on the engine and he tells himself he doesn’t know why. But he does. He knows exactly why.

Tony still hasn’t made Harley touch him. Maybe if Harley finishes this engine, he never will.

Harley pads into the garage. It hasn’t been cold for weeks.

“You’re working on the engine today,” Tony says. He hasn’t taken the seat next to Harley. Instead, he’s working on a metal glove on the adjacent table. Harley takes a seat but doesn’t start working.

“Sir?” he tries.

“What?”

“Could…” Harley’s hand clench on his workbook. “Could you help me with this problem?”

Harley tenses as Tony walks over. “Show me,” Tony says. Harley points to the problem, stumbling through an explanation of what he’s done so far. “Hm.” Tony taps to a section of his work. “Reverse these forces.”

Harley scribbles through the new calculation and the answer falls into place. “Oh. That worked. Thank you, sir.”

Tony’s hand travels from the page to the edge of the workbook, flipping it closed.

“I can start working on the engine--”

“No. I changed my mind.” Harley’s mouth clicks shut as Tony interrupts him. “Get on your knees.”

Harley chokes. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

Harley forces down the bile in his throat. He’s done it before. He can do it again. Think about staying with Peter, think about everything he has to be grateful for. He can do it again. He  _ will _ do it again.

Harley sinks to his knees.

“Good boy.” Harley shudders at Tony’s words. “It’s hardly the first time you’ve gotten on your knees, is it?”

Harley shakes his head. “No, sir,” he whispers. He flinches as Tony’s runs a hand through his hair.

“Get on with it then.”

Harley unzips Tony’s pants with trembling fingers and draws Tony out of his silken boxers. He strokes Tony a couple times and feels him grow bigger, harder. Tony’s only the second person Harley’s ever been with. He’s gentler than Harley’s first partner, who had opened Harley up and forced himself inside. 

(And Tony gave Harley the chance to finish the engine, why couldn't Harley have just finished the engine?)

For that time, his first time, Harley had only gotten a few bucks. It was the last bit of money Harley needed for Peter’s medicine but he still thinks about it sometimes. How he gave up the last clean part of himself for only a few dirty bills.

This is better, he knows that. Warm bedrooms and stainless steel and knowing his brother is safe. Soft sheets and stocked fridges and short sleeves. He’s grateful. (He should have finished the engine.) And Harley just can’t think about how much bigger Tony is than the first man that took him, how much it will hurt when Tony fucks into him.

(Why can’t he make the engine work?)

Tony gives him a sharp slap on the cheek. Harley snaps back into himself. “Come on,” Tony commands.

Harley leans forward. He takes the tip in his mouth first, swirling his tongue and tasting the first drops of precum. He licks down the sides until he’s reached as far as he can. There’s an obscene pop as he pulls off. He takes a deep breath and swallows Tony down again.

Tony’s other hand comes around to cradle the back of Harley’s skull. “Put your hands down,” he orders. Harley’s tucks his hands behind his knees. When he goes to pull back, Tony stops him. “Better breath through your nose, baby.”

Tony starts fucking into him hard and fast. Harley fights back the urge the gag as Tony hits the back of his throat. Tears well in his eyes. Tony’s hands keep him from going anywhere and Harley struggles to do as Tony ordered. Hands down. Breath through the nose.

Harley almost retches when Tony holds him close, cock filling his mouth. Tony gives a low moan. His nails scratch against Harley’s scalp before he cums down his throat. He doesn’t pull away until Harley swallows.

Harley gasps on the floor as Tony zips himself back up. “You’re welcome to finish yourself off, darling,” Tony suggests. Harley scrubs at his mouth and shakes his head, ignoring the way his pants tent. Tony only laughs and goes back to his work.

Tony directs Harley to work on the engine again the next day. Harley takes a long look at the engine, sleek and silver and sticky with sugar. Then he starts ripping it apart.

He tears at it with his bare hands until it’s a jagged metal skeleton. Wires and cogs lie at his feet like the innards of a beast. Where the leftover metal is too sharp, he hacks at it with whatever tools he finds near him. The screwdriver pries away the siding and wrenches out nails. He uses the back of the tool to smash anything he can and the plastic handle cracks. He throws it to the ground and is about to grab something else when a hand lands on his shoulder.

Harley whirls on Tony. It’s not until he sees Tony’s blurry outline that Harley realizes he’s crying. “Just do it already!” Harley screams. His throat is still raw from yesterday. “Why don’t you just get it over with?”

“You’re going to fix this. However long it takes. You’re going to build me this engine.”

Harley shrugs him off. He wipes his tears away with the collar of his shirt but his eyes keep tearing up. “Why? What’s the point? I-- I can’t make it work and you’re going to f--fuck me anyway. You know I’m not going to leave so… so…” Harley is ashamed to hear himself hiccup. His voice is watery, trembling. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

“I told you that you could always quit.” Tony leans back against the table. He tilts his head. “I’ll cut you a deal, darling. While you’re fixing the engine, no fucking. No touching. No anything. Just you and the engine making sweet love in the garage. I won’t even watch, unless you’re into that.” Tony winks. Harley looks at the ground and Tony clucks his tongue. “Nope, eyes up here, sweetie. That’s it. Here’s some incentive for you,” Tony flashes him a winning press-ready smile. “The sooner you fix up that engine, the sooner I stop giving Peter drinks. And drugs, I suppose. Either way, a happy little Peter will come back to you with vomiting not included.”

“What?” Harley’s eyes widen. Tony chuckles.

“I do need something to motivate you. Can’t have you unraveling the burial shroud every night like Odysseus’s pretty wife. Though you are pretty.” Tony brushes a hand against his cheek and Harley flinches. “Just an extra bit of motivation,” Tony finishes as he steps away.

Tony claps his hands together. “I guess I better get ready for my date with Peter. Busy night. Best of luck with that engine, darling, time being of the essence and all that.” Tony sweeps out of the room. 

Harley hasn’t felt safe in a long time, not since their parents died and it was just him and Peter. The two of them shivered through so many midnights, wrapped up in each other. Harley thinks of himself as a selfish person. He’s a liar, a thief, a cheater. He’d rather take and take and take than give a single inch. Except when it comes to Peter.

For Peter, he would do anything, give up any part of himself. He already has. He’s doing it now. How many more nights is he going to curl up next to Peter filthy, disgusting, tainted? And for what? Tony was right, he’s not even protecting Peter anymore.

Maybe he misses that life, the days when Peter had to rely on him. Maybe he misses having that purpose. Maybe that’s the most selfish thought of all, wishing that he could bring Peter back down to his level, wishing he could drag his brilliant brother back into the cold and shadows where there were no heirs and no engines and no hands slipping beneath his clothes.

Harley looks at the engine, nearly reduced to scrap metal. His hands shake. The longer it stays broken, the longer he’s safe. And wouldn’t it be fair? Wouldn’t it be fair for Peter to finally give up something for him?

Harley sinks to the ground, sick with himself. He can’t think like that. He knows Peter would do just about anything for him and he’s never let Peter make that sacrifice. Peter never asked Harley to give himself up. He had begged Harley not to and Harley was the fool who took them here. Harley did this to himself.

Tomorrow he’ll start working on the engine. Tomorrow.

The next time Harley goes to change into his garage clothes, there are shoes. Thick, sturdy, ember-proof shoes. Something in his chest loosens as he realizes Tony wasn’t lying. He has these days to himself until he fixes the engine.

In some ways, it feels like a gift, gilded and golden and shining. As Harley picks up a hammer, it also feels like putting his hand on the chopping block and then bringing down the axe himself.

There’s nothing Harley can do but breath in the warm air while he still can and get to work.

So Harley works. And he works. And works.

He doesn’t go to school anymore so as soon as he sends Peter off in the morning, he’s in the garage. He’ll spend all day there, won’t eat until Peter’s home and demanding some kind of snack, and then he’ll be right back. While Peter munches on fresh fruit, Harley scribbles in his notebook. The first designs are how to repair the skeleton of the engine, then how to fix it up back to the way it was. Towards the end of the pages are jotted lines on how he might finally make the engine run.

Sometimes it feels like he’s sees that notebook more than he sees Peter.

Peter must feel it too. At night, he curls closer to Harley, hand fisted in his shirt. He drags his feet getting ready for school and Harley might be imagining it but the meals they eat together seem to take longer and longer while he waits for Peter to finish.

Peter doesn’t ask to go to the garage anymore. He knows Harley won’t allow it. He just watches Harley leave with those endless brown eyes. When Harley comes back with cuts and burns and raw fingertips, Peter tries to kiss them away but Harley won’t let him.

Instead of seeing Peter, Harley sees Tony. 

Tony, biting his lip until it bleeds. Tony, pulling at his hair. Tony, dragging nails down his spine. 

Tony and Peter, coming home drunk and drugged. Tony and Peter, getting anything they want. Tony and Peter, using all of Harley up.

The day Harley finishes the outside shell of the engine is the day Harley breaks down.

The engine isn’t even fixed yet. Its insides are still scraped hollow but the outside is repaired, looking just like it did before. Harley screws on the last panel and it hits him like a sucker punch.

His safety is temporary.

And he should be working longer, harder. He should keep trying to fix this engine for Peter but it’s all he can do to stumble out of the garage and into his bedroom. The sheets are cold without his brother but Harley twists himself in them anyway and weeps.

Peter comes in hours later and takes Harley into his arms as much as he can. His hands jump over Harley’s skin as he wipes away Harley’s tears.

“What is it? Harls?”

Harley shakes his head and doesn’t answer. He can’t answer. Not when Peter reminds him of Tony. Not when he thinks blame will come spilling out of his throat.

Peter’s face crumples but he lays with Harley anyway. When the last light in the room has faded, Peter speaks again, just above a whisper.

“Harley? Do you… Do you still love me?”

And it hurts Harley because he loves Peter more than he could ever say but the part of him that loves is dying. Harley gave it away. He’s been giving it away for Peter for as long as he can remember. It feels like he hurts no matter what.

“Pete, I’ll always love you.” It doesn’t feel like a lie. Harley can’t meet Peter’s eyes.

He goes to kiss Peter’s cheek and Peter turns and their lips are pressing against each other and Peter’s moving, deepening the kiss, tongue teasing into Harley’s mouth, and Harley doesn’t stop him. He lets Peter take and Tony isn’t there but Harley can hear him laughing.

Three weeks pass. Harley’s in the garage. He’s alone. His hands are sticky and the space is warm. His shoes are snug on his feet.

Harley takes a fathomless breath and revs the engine.

It purrs to life immediately. 

It doesn’t stutter. It doesn’t gasp. It doesn’t falter.

The engine runs on sugar water and Harley is dripping salt.

“Good job, kid. I’m impressed.” Tony claps a hand on Harley’s shoulder over dinner. Peter pauses his animated talking, still buzzing with happiness that they’re eating a meal together for the first time in weeks.

“Thank you, sir.” Harley rubs his hands on his legs as his cheeks heat. His fingers are still sticky with sugar residue.

“Tony.”

Harley’s eyes dart up to Tony’s face. Peter beams.

“Thank you, Tony,” Harley repeats softly.

As they crawl into bed together that night, Peter whispers, “He’s going to start taking you to the galas again. I know he is. He couldn’t even figure out that engine and now you did, so you’ll have to be heir too. You have to be.”

Harley lets himself imagine it as Peter falls asleep. Foolishly, he lets himself hope.

The next day, his garage clothes are gone. There’s no shirt, no jeans, no shoes.

There’s only lacy red underwear.

Harley runs trembling fingers over it. It feels flimsy. Insubstantial. That foolish bit of hope he was holding onto goes out.

He sinks to the floor, knees knocked close to his chest, and covers his wet face with his hands. And he shakes and shakes and shakes until Tony comes into the small changing room to retrieve him.

Tony kicks at his ankle. “Come on. Get up.” Harley pulls his legs tighter to his body. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, darling. Get changed.”

Harley lifts his head, red rimmed eyes meeting Tony’s. “I told you this was going was going to happen,” Tony says as he runs a knuckle over Harley’s cheek. “You did good, don’t doubt that. You’re gonna make SI a lot of money. But you’re better at this.” Tony hooks a finger through a hole in the lace and dangles the nightclothes before Harley.

He drops them onto Harley’s knees. “Now get changed,” he orders.

Harley takes the lace and stands, tremors running through his legs. He starts as the changing room door clicks shut with both of them still inside.

“Are… Aren’t you going to leave?”

Tony cocks an eyebrow. “Why should I?”

Harley swallows down bile and nods. His clothes pile on the floor and he tugs on the lingerie. Goosebumps prickle on his skin. Tony holds out a hand and Harley takes it.

Tony leads him like a lamb towards the master bedroom. He cracks open the door and Harley freezes.

“No,” Harley mutters. “No, no, no, no--”

Peter is staring back at him from inside Tony’s room. His mouth hangs open, doe eyes wide and confused.

Harley tries to back away but Tony pushes him inside. The door locks behind them. “Stay here,” Tony orders, pressing Harley’s shoulders back against the wall. As Tony walks over to Peter, Harley tries the handle once, quickly. It doesn’t budge.

“Peter,” Tony murmurs, reaching a hand up to brush Peter’s curls. Peter flinches away.

“What-- What’s happening?”

“Peter,” Tony’s hands fall to Peter’s shoulders. He rubs at Peter’s arms. “You know you’re going to inherit my company one day. You’re everything I could hope for in an heir, everything I am and maybe more. I know you’re ready, Peter. I just need you to prove it to me.”

“Prove it? I thought I already…” Peter’s breaths speed up. His gaze drifts sideways to Harley.

“Look at me.” Tony nudges Peter’s face back towards him. “This world is ours. We have to take it. We have to take it from the people beneath us. The man who had your brother first already learned that lesson. It’s time you do too.

“If you want to keep everything I’ve given you, for you and your brother, well… you know what you have to do.” Tony turns Peter to face Harley. His hands rest possessively on Peter’s hips.

Harley sees Peter’s eyes lock on the red lace. His voice comes out hoarse and quivering.  _ “Peter,” _ he pleads.

“Don’t--” Tony growls. His grip tightens on Peter and Harley watches his brother wince. “--speak.”

Peter rips his stare away, looking just above Harley’s head instead. Tears are gathering at the corners of his eyes. “I-- I don’t understand. He-- Harley-- He’s smart. He… the engine. He fixed the engine.”

Tony leans down. His lips brush Peter’s ear. “I know, Peter. Just as smart as you. But that’s not what I’m trying to teach you. You have to look at people for what they are. 

“Take your brother: he would do anything for you. He already gave the most precious part of himself away for you, didn’t he? People who sacrifice like that aren’t meant to run companies. They don’t have the constitution for it. They’re meant to be used by people like us.”

Tony’s fingers trace shapes on the strip of bare skin above Peter’s pants. Peter doesn’t move away.

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“This is what’s best for both of you. This is what’s right. Your brother understands that. Don’t you, Harley?”

Harley wants to scream. He doesn’t. He only nods.

Tony beckons him with a hand. “Come here, darling. Sit on the bed.” Harley follows the order. He glances at the window as he passes but it isn’t the kind that opens. He would have to break it to get out. To jump.

Tony tugs at the buttons of Peter’s shirt and works it off him. He unbuckles Peter’s belt, unzips his jeans, pulls them down Peter’s legs.

“Wait, wait!” Peter grabs Tony’s wrist before he can take off Peter’s boxers.

“You don’t have to be ashamed, baby. You never have to be ashamed again.” Tony’s brushes Peter’s hands away and takes off the last of his clothes. “You’re going to own the room and everyone in it.”

A whimper escapes Harley and it’s a sound of pain and desire. He watches Peter’s eyes flutter as Tony strokes his cock with the firm, practiced motion Harley knows so well. And Peter is beautiful, so beautiful, as a flush spreads out from his collarbones and his protests turns into whines. His cock is almost delicate, pink and hardening and leaking beads of precum. It curves towards his stomach as Tony fondles his balls. Peter lets out a drawn out moan and Tony doesn’t silence him, only smirks and leads him to the bed.

Peter kneels down next to Harley. “Strip him,” Tony breathes into his ear. Peter hesitates and Tony’s next words come out even sweeter. “Do it.”

Peter pulls the lace down to Harley’s calfs. It scratches against his skin and drags along the head of his cock. Harley tries not to twitch, tries to ignore his steadily growing hardness. Peter doesn’t meet Harley’s eyes.

Tony cups Peter’s fingers in his own and guides them to Harley’s entrance. “Prepare your brother,” he commands as he dribbles lube between the two boys.

“Harley?” Peter’s voice trembles. Fingertips brush against his entrance, cold and slick, and Harley gasps.

“Pete--”

“Shh.” Tony reaches over and rubs his thumb against Harley’s hip. “Don’t make me gag you.” Harley immediately shuts his mouth.

“But…” Peter turns beseeching eyes to Tony.

“There’s nothing we need to hear him say, Peter. Your job is to decide for him, for everyone. You remember the better world we talked about? It won’t just happen. You have to lead people there. And leaders have to have followers,” Tony persuades. 

Harley doesn’t try to speak while Tony talks. He doesn’t try to move. He doesn’t try to escape. He’s just a plaything in Tony’s game and no engine will never change that. He’s meant to be a follower. He’s a tool, used to build things, used for other perverse tasks, but never making its own decisions.

“But… you… you told me once we have the world, we protect it. I don’t want to… What if Harley doesn’t want this? Then I’m not protecting him. Why am I becoming the heir if I can’t--” The agitation makes Peter clutch at the bedsheets.

“Alright, Peter,” Tony soothes, holding up a hand. “Let’s ask your brother then.”

Tony turns to Harley. “Harley, would you rather I prepare you or Peter?” Tony’s thumb, still kneading Harley’s hip, digs in a nail.

“Peter. I-- I want Peter. Please.” The thumb goes back to its gentle presses.

“See, Peter? He wants it.” Tony leans in. “I’ll show you how.”

That’s all the warning Harley gets before fingers breach his body.

Harley drops his head back against the pillows. Tentative fingers probe inside him as he stares at the ceiling. Dimly, he hears Tony instructing Peter to add another and crook his fingers. There’s a spark of pleasure so sharp it feels like electricity and Harley yelps before he can stop himself. He bits down on his hand to muffle his noise as Peter does as he’s told and stretches Harley out.

“He’s ready,” Tony says. The blunt head of Peter’s cock pushes at Harley’s entrance. Then he hears Tony whisper, “I saved him for you.”

Harley inhales, inhales, inhales until he feels dizzy. Peter sinks into him with a groan. Pleasure washes over his brother’s face and Harley thinks of how different it all could have been. If he never accepted Tony’s proposition. If he had left before Peter came to find him. If their first time together wasn’t under Tony’s watchful eyes and guiding hand.

He tries to concentrate on Peter, the beautiful form of his brother rocking into his own body with short, inexperienced thrusts, but all he can think of is Tony’s words. How Tony saved the most intimate part of Harley for Peter to take first. How after tonight, Tony doesn’t have to save him anymore.

He can see that inevitable future sprawling before him. He’ll be the kept boy of Stark Industries for the rest of his life.

“Not now, darling.” Tony brushes a thumb under Harley’s eyes. “Save those for later.” It takes Harley a second to realize Tony is wiping away his tears.

Peter’s eyes flicker open as he hears them and he opens his mouth to say something. But then Tony has a hand on Harley’s cock and Harley clenches around Peter. Whatever Peter was going to ask is lost to another breathy moan.

Peter’s head drops down until he’s crouching fully over Harley. His curls brush against Harley’s sternum, his breaths are hot on Harley’s skin. His hands delicately interwine with Harley’s, palm to palm, as he thrusts deeper. He’s blissed out and beautiful, glistening with sweat and near drunk with pleasure. Peter squeezes Harley’s hand and Tony digs into his slit and Harley’s done.

He comes with a gasp, spasming around Peter as he spills between them. Peter falls in step just behind him. Harley feels warmth empty into his body.

Almost before Peter’s done, Tony’s already pulling him away. A mewl leaves Harley as Peter slips out of him. Something drips between his legs.

“I’m so proud of you,” Tony croons. He tilts Peter’s chin and brings him in for a kiss. Harley can feel Peter shuddering through it where their hands are still locked together.

“No more today,” Peter says against Tony’s lips. “Please, no more.”

“Of course, baby. We can rest,” Tony agrees. He makes no move to bring them back to their room.

Harley curls up on the far side of Tony's bed and tries not to move, not to make a sound. Tony molds Peter to sleep besides him and Harley’s side of the bed is cold, so cold, save for the place where his fingers are linked with his brother’s.

Harley wonders briefly if it’s okay for him to cry now but he passes out before he gets the chance.

His sleep is deep and sticky and clouded. He only wakes up once in the night when he feels Peter’s hand drift away. He clenches at empty air and then curls tighter into himself. His body shivers as he sleeps.

When Harley wakes up, Tony is still asleep and Peter is gone. Harley eases out of bed, watching Tony for any reaction. Tony doesn’t so much as twitch.

Harley pads down the hallway and steals a quick, scalding shower while he still can. Before Tony comes for him, before Tony dirties him. Or maybe Tony will just make Peter do it again.

Harley slips into the kitchen and there’s Peter, eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen island. Besides him is a cylindrical glowing disc. Its fluorescent blue light is unlike anything Harley’s ever seen.

Harley takes the seat across from Peter. He rasps, “What is that?”

Peter glances up at him. 

“Tony Stark’s heart.”

Harley stiffens. “What?”

“He’s dead.” Peter grabs the metal disc, the  _ heart. _ “He told me he couldn’t live without it when he was showing me how to run the company. And he was hurting you. So I stopped him.”

Everything in Harley comes to a halt. Peter’s hand drifting away from his in the night. Tony’s motionless body in the morning. The glowing heart on the table. Tony, dead and unable to hurt them anymore.

“So you… we…” Harley straightens in his seat as it sinks in. The unimaginable. “So we can go. We can leave! Peter,  _ Peter,  _ we can finally leave this place. We can get out of here and--”

“What?” Peter’s brow wrinkles. “No, Harley, we’re not leaving.”

Harley’s face falls. The fledgling joy trickles out of him. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t we leave?”

“I’m the heir,” Peter states. “He wrote me into his will, I made sure. All of this is mine now. I can finally protect you.” Peter’s eyes are earnest as he reaches to cup Harley’s hand between his own.

“I…” Harley pulls his hand away. Peter’s expression crumbles. “I can’t… Please, Peter, no. What about-- What about school? I have to go back to school. I could work. We could clean up our old place with the money, we--”

“No, no.” Peter shakes his head and Harley sees the moment he closes himself off. “You can’t leave the tower. I’ll get you a tutor. I’ll have someone bring everything from our old home. And-- and you never have to work again. It’ll just be the two of us, building new stuff for the company, just to keep it running. And I’ll protect you.”

“Peter--” 

“I’ll build you a garden on the roof. It’ll be more beautiful than anything down there and it’ll always be warm. We’ll never be cold again. You never have to leave. You can’t leave. Please, Harley, please, you can’t leave me,” Peter begs as tears start welling in his eyes. “I have to protect you. You’re all I have left.”

Harley takes in his brother, who he’s sacrificed everything for. His beautiful, brilliant brother, who’s worth more than the frosty air and blue skies and late night stars. His brother, who is worth more than Harley’s freedom.

Harley walks around the table and presses their foreheads together. They breathe the same air for a moment before Harley promises, “You’re all I have left too. I’ll never leave you.” He places a kiss on Peter’s cheek. “I love you.”

Peter throws his arms around Harley. “I love you too," he cries.

Harley holds Peter close and watches the blue light in Tony’s metal heart flicker and flare like the rev of an engine.

**Author's Note:**

> A heartfelt thank you to [VerdantMoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth) for allowing me the privilege of remixing their fic!


End file.
